Mike [Wounded Hearts 2] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove)

by Fel Fern

  What was he doing, fantasying about a stranger he just bumped into, a dominant tiger shifter no less, when he should be keeping his head down?

  “Little wild cat, stop looking at me like that.” Mike’s voice changed from friendly to something else, deeper, rougher, more animal.

  “Like how?”

  “Like I’m good to eat when I’m not.”

  “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?”

  Mike smiled bitterly. “No one sees me anymore, just what I lack.”

  There was sadness in those words, making Bowen want to chase the sadness away. He had a job interview, which he was five minutes late for, according to the text from his contact at the HR department a moment ago. Leaving now though would sound like he was making an excuse.

  Besides, he hated interviews. Since moving to Cherry Hill a month ago, he’d already switched jobs three times, looking for anything that could him afloat, just until Brad came back for him. He’d been angry, his brother dumped him here without discussing plans with him, but he could understand Brad’s thinking.

  Unlike Brad, he was a submissive shifter, no stronger than a human, who could just shift into a lynx. Now, he was beginning to think his luck was changing.

  “I see you,” he blurted, then blushed. Was he being too forward?

  He and his brother were one of the few of their kind left, hunted down because Bowen had the ability to become pregnant, to carry not just lynx shifter babies, but also any feline predatory shifter offspring. Bowen was essentially, the equivalent of an Omega wolf, a breeder able to carry a pure-blood shifter child. Since the birth rates of shifters were so rare, he was considered a prize. Pure blood offspring were more powerful than those who were changed to shifters through an Alpha's bite.

  When word got out about his ability to a vicious, crazy panther Alpha named Blank, he and his brother ran. They’d been running for years, which meant he never had time to develop romantic relationships, or build friendships. Normal things.

  It didn’t feel much of a loss. His lynx never grew attracted to any shifter in town, until now. All his brother’s warning about staying away from dominant shifters and keeping his head down went down the drain.

  “Listen, can I get you coffee?” Bowen asked, hoping to diffuse the tension.

  Mike blinked. Brownie pulled at the leash. “I need to bring Brownie to the dog park. She’s restless, but maybe coffee from the nearby cart?”

  “Good compromise,” he agreed.

  They walked further into the park, and he forgot all about his interview. It wasn’t much of a loss, and Bowen could find another job. Bumping into a gorgeous male was a rare opportunity, though.

  Be careful, Bowen. When a dominant male sees you, all they’re interested in is your ability to carry cubs. Brad’s words echoed in his brain, except Mike didn’t even know what he was capable of and besides, they were merely chatting and Bowen never felt this way around anyone before. Even his inner lynx wanted to get closer to this tiger shifter, even though something felt a little wrong with Mike’s tiger.

  They got two hot lattes from the nearby cart, and Mike let Brownie loose with the other dogs inside the park, while they stood at the edges, watching.

  “Have you had her long?” he asked, desperate to make conversation.

  Mike didn’t seem like the chatty type, but Bowen didn’t feel uneasy about the silence. In fact, it was the exact opposite. His lynx was completely comfortable around Mike, not restless like most times. Brad dumping him here had been for his own safety, but Bowen lived like a fugitive, scared all his brother’s efforts would have gone to waste and he might attract the notice of Blank and his panthers after all.

  “I adopted her a few months ago. She’s an ex-police dog, like I said before.” Mike paused, as if unused to talking so much, but at Bowen’s curious look, Mike went on, “I’m an ex-soldier myself, discarded because, like her, I’m no longer useful. We suit each other.”

  The tiger shifter spoke casually, like they talked about the weather, but Bowen sensed hidden pain and bitterness. Bowen was suddenly filled with the urge to reach out and comfort the big man, except he was a complete stranger and had zero touch privileges. Besides, what if he hugged Mike and Mike pushed him away?

  Mike drank his coffee and looked at Brownie again. The German Shepard, Bowen noticed, didn’t seem interested in socializing with other dogs. Brownie ran a bit, before lying down on the ground. Like dog, like owner?

  “I had a hunch you were a soldier,” he said instead, pretending to find his coffee cup more interesting.

  His inner lynx screamed at him to stop being so timid and approach tiger but he shoved his cat back. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? Bowen read romance books in his spare time and if he came out too strong, it might turn away Mike, not draw him in.

  “Oh?”

  “My brother served for two years. It’s the way you hold yourself, disciplined and neat,” he mumbled.

  “Is he still in the army?”

  “No,” he answered too quickly.

  Brad came home, hearing there was trouble brewing, that Blank was sniffing and asking about Bowen. They lived in a small town, mostly populated by humans. There was no dominant paranormal group in charge, so none of the townsfolk knew how to deal when Blank and his crew entered town, looking for easy pickings and Bowen.

  “I see.” Mike didn’t press but Bowen didn’t want to give Mike the impression he was rude.

  “It’s just, my brother’s been looking out for me all my life, especially after our parents died. I graduated from college, he went off to the military, and I was supposed to start learning how to be an adult, live on my own.”

  Jesus. Brad told him to keep his head down yet here he was, spilling his life story and secrets to a stranger he just met. Mike cocked his head, listening, and that filled him with some relief.

  “Brad sacrificed plenty for me while all I’ve done is drag him down,” he finished.

  Silence, as if Mike contemplated his words. “Your brother sounds like a good person, but I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way. Maybe you can repay his effort sometime in the future.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t usually blurt out stuff about my personal life to random strangers.”

  Mike shook his head. “Seems like it’s been weighing you down for a while.”

  Mike was right. Talking seemed to ease the weight off his heart. Bowen slipped up. Badly, but he doubted Mike would use knowledge about Bowen’s personal life against him. Bowen could still part ways amicably with Mike, never see the tiger shifter again, and avoid bumping into Mike in the future. When the dust settled and Brad came back to pick him up, he didn’t need to mention how he almost screwed up to his brother.

  This was a one-time-thing, except his lynx didn’t like that notion at all. Meeting Mike wasn’t an accident, instinct told him that.

  “Can I make it up to you, with dinner?” The words rushed out of him without warning.

  Mike blinked, like he didn’t expect that at all. “I don’t know,” Mike ventured slowly, looking thoughtful. Those striking eyes seemed to take on a darker shade under the light, the wounded soul there capable of taking Bowen under, if he weren’t careful. How could Bowen be possibly this attracted to a stranger?

  Mike finally asked, “Is this a date?”

  A date? Bowen had been on those during school. It summoned images of juvenile giggles and awkward kisses and tumbling in bed. Sometimes, that part of his life felt like it belonged to someone else. Make-believe, because after that, Blank arrived in town on his first day of work at a small but reputable accounting firm. Then things went to hell.

  Still, talking to Mike, standing this close to the tiger shifter, made his pulse race, made his inner lynx happy.

  He must have taken too long to answer, because Mike continued, “Wait. What am I thinking? A guy like you can’t possibly—

  “Yes,” he replied automatically, although on hindsi
ght, he should have mulled over that question a little more.

  Still, he didn’t like seeing the flash of hurt in Mike’s eyes. The tiger shifter really believed for a second that Bowen wasn’t serious, was asking him out of kindness. What the hell? A man like Mike shouldn’t be having any self-esteem issues, but was Bowen the right guy to show Mike that?

  “I’m not good with things like this,” Mike admitted.

  “There’s no need to complicate matters. It’s just me, you, and some steak. You eat steak right?” he asked.

  Mike laughed, looking less serious, less intense. Much better. That was a good sound, and Bowen hoped he could get Mike to do it again. “What shifter doesn’t like steak?”

  “Um, vegetarians?”

  “All right, I’ll pick you up. Where do you live?”

  “The Cube motel,” he mumbled, waiting for Mike to ask why he lived at a motel.

  Mike nodded. “I know where that is. Which floor and room?”

  After he gave Mike the details, Mike retrieved Brownie, leashed her, and gave him a hesitant smile before walking away. His heart hammered as he watched both tiger shifter and dog leave. The last thing he wanted was to tell Mike he changed his mind, that this wasn’t a good idea, but Bowen had been so miserable since he moved into Cherry Hill.

  Didn’t Bowen deserve some happiness too, no matter how short-lived?

  Chapter Three

  Mike pushed his way past his front door, letting Brownie in. She yipped and settled on her spot on the rug in front of the TV. Mike locked the door but leaned against the frame for a couple of seconds. Fuck. What just happened?

  His life followed a usual course, centered around not having any inconsistencies. Mike never factored Bowen into the equation. What would a good-looking and sweet guy like Bowen want with a one-legged and broken were-tiger like him?

  “He’s just being nice,” he mumbled. Except Bowen already bought him coffee. Was this part of the nice-guy act, too?

  Something about Bowen seemed a little off, too, like the little lynx kept secrets he shouldn’t pry into. Why a motel? Was Bowen just passing through town? If so, that should have brought him some relief. It fit. He hadn’t seen Bowen around either, so Bowen must be new. Something about Bowen’s story prickled at him, though.

  Where was Bowen’s brother and why did Bowen come to this town?

  He shook his head. Didn’t matter. Whatever luggage Bowen totted with him wasn’t any of Mike’s business, except meeting the little lynx spiked the curiosity of his tiger. On bad days, his inner tiger felt like it wanted to rip Mike from the inside out. It felt caged, angry about the missing paw, angry at the world for no longer making any sense. He’d been at the top of the food chain and had been reduced to a little more than a shadow, trudging past life and not being able to make sense of reality.

  “One date and that’s it,” he whispered.

  Except it couldn’t be as simple as that. Bowen reached out, tore past all the layers of armor Mike wrapped around himself to keep him safe with ease. Dangerous. His little lynx was a threat.

  Wait. His?

  Bowen wasn’t his anything, merely a stranger he bumped into. After tonight, Bowen would realize Mike was nothing but a shell of his former self and lose interest. That was the best outcome, except his tiger didn’t want that. The animal seemed to think the hunt was on. Bowen was no prey though, but something else.

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  Brownie barked at him but continued curling up on the rug. Mike limped over to the kitchen grabbed her dog bowl and poured some water. He walked back to her and placed it by her, watching her hungrily lap it all up.

  “We had a strange adventure in the park today, didn’t we, girl?” he asked, settling on the arm chair beside her. After finishing her drink, she settled her head on his lap and he absentmindedly stroked her fur. She made a happy whine.

  Little cats didn’t whine. They purred. Would Bowen purr for him, if Bowen laid his head on his lap?

  First, he started talking to his dog and the next, he contemplated about the impossible. No one would want a wounded tiger for a mate. Why was Mike thinking that far ahead anyway? What did Bowen say before? Not to make things complicated.

  Mike would meet Bowen, have dinner and some conversation. Then he’d walk Bowen home. Maybe give the little lynx one farewell kiss. Except thinking of Bowen’s tempting lips and taking them, he’d want more. Kisses would lead to heated touches, to stripping down and having Bowen naked and eager for him. He could imagine Bowen on fours, devilish smile on his lips as he offered his ass to Mike for the taking.

  His dick pressed up against the zipper of his jeans. Want moved him, would consume him. It had been so long and at that moment, Mike hadn’t realized how incredibly lonely he was. He looked around his empty apartment. For the first time in a long time, he imagined laughter, the smell of something scrumptious cooking from the stove he seldom used, and Bowen wearing a wacky apron.

  Hope was poison to broken shifters. Mike would start craving for more, for things he couldn’t have.

  A mate, their home, even kids—Mike dreamt of having those things once, even came close to them and once he found out they were beyond his grasp, he fell hard. When he felt this miserable, he’d take out his phone, pull up Jared’s social media pages, browse through the pictures, but not today.

  Mike didn’t know why, but he deleted all the bookmarks for those pages and cleared the history of his phone browser. His fingers trembled all the while. Such a little thing. Taking lives was easier, but Mike was no longer in hostile territory, no longer had to kill for the sake of duty, because no one else could do the job.

  He was a civilian now, but he could cease being a pathetic shadow by letting go of Jared. At least one good thing came out of him bumping into Bowen. Even if Bowen was doing all this to be nice to a broken tiger shifter, Bowen had no idea what kind of gift he’d already given Mike.

  Mike glanced at the prosthetic leg he seldom used, propped up against the TV. He disliked using it because it reminded him too much of what he lost. Abram had felt the same way, too, but Mike needed to attach it to drive. Looking at the prosthetic always dampened his mood, worsened the depression. For the first time since waking up to the horror that he was less of a man, a shade of a shifter, Mike felt his dead heart stir.

  “I want to live,” he whispered to the empty space.

  * * * *

  “Shit.”

  Bowen tossed his last shirt on the bed and hissed. Five shirts. Three pairs of jeans. The rest of his clothing comprised of boxers and socks. That was all he had and never bothered to update his wardrobe. Few belongings seemed logical. He and his brother traveled light, so they could grab their stuff at a moment’s notice when danger came their way. Except he wouldn’t be running for a while.

  It had been a week since Brad contacted him. Same words every time.

  Be vigilant. Keep your head down. I’ll update you soon.

  Sometimes, Bowen couldn’t help but wonder if Brad had forgotten him, had abandoned him here so Brad could live out his own life. Then he’d feel immensely guilty for harboring such thoughts. His brother gave up everything so he could live and this was how he repaid Brad? He glanced at his phone, sitting on the small, wobbly table beside the bed.

  No update yet and Brad should have texted him by now. He let out a frustrated breath and sat on the edge of the thin comforter. The room reeked of mold and dust. Old smells his lynx didn’t like but had grown used to. If Bowen couldn’t get a job soon, he wouldn’t be able to pay for lodgings either.

  So many problems and here he was, frustrated he couldn’t find a decent shirt to wear on his date. Hell, he took out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and stared at the two twenties there, the last of his cash. He certainly couldn’t afford for a steak dinner, but he couldn’t cancel on Mike now.

  Looking at the wall clock above the bed, he cursed under his breath. They agreed to meet at seven and it was five to seven n
ow. Shit. Bowen hurried to the bathroom and took a quick shower. When he emerged, knuckles rapped on the door.

  For a second, fear clamped around his heart. If one lived most of his life running, Bowen grew naturally suspicious, became careful of his surroundings, but his lynx didn’t sense a threat.

  “Bowen? It’s me,” came Mike’s voice.

  “A minute, please.” Bowen dropped the towel and grabbed the nearest pair of jeans. It had the least holes in it. He ran to the door and opened it, realizing he hadn’t dried his hair off completely or toweled off. Water still clung to his chest and back. What a mess, but Mike staring at him for a few good seconds, like he was the best thing on the menu, was certainly worth it.

  “Hi.” Why did his voice sound so breathy? Mike looked good, dressed casually in a pair of black jeans and a white tee under a black denim jacket.

  “Hey, do you want me to wait downstairs?” Mike asked, voice a little harsh. The tiger shifter’s glacial blue eyes had a hint of gold in them, telling Bowen that Mike wasn’t completely in control of his animal.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll hurry. I’m so sorry, I took so long picking what to wear. Please, have a sit.” Bowen looked over his clothing choices and picked a clean button down shirt, the one he used for interviews and decided he might look out of place in a steakhouse. He took the green shirt instead and pulled it on.

  “Is that all your clothes?” Mike asked.

  Bowen paused, realizing he had the cabinet open. Mike could probably see the empty hangers and all his clothes, including his boxers on the bed. Blushing, he nodded.

  “I like to travel light.”

  “You’re just passing by town then?”

  Perfectly normal questions. They were on a date and it was natural to be curious. “I’ve been here for a month.”

  Mike didn’t say anything, merely listened. The tiger shifter was good at that, Bowen realized.

  “I’ve been searching for a job. I had an interview this afternoon but—” he trailed off.